Three Quarter Time
by vjs2259
Summary: This is a triptych of stories written for the prompt 'waltz'. The first chapter is set early S3. The second is set during Rising Star. Sentimental and sweet, and pure J/D. It was written to showcase the three stages of their relationship.
1. Closed Position

**Closed Position**

_Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words._

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"_Let your eyes half close, and your heart beat over my heart."_

William Butler Yeats

* * *

"I hate these things," muttered John Sheridan under his breath to his second in command, Commander Susan Ivanova. Both were in their dress uniforms, Sheridan's replete with medals he seldom bothered to display, and Susan's with creases ironed to precise angles. They circulated among the crowd, greeting ambassadors, envoys, members of trade delegations.

"Remind me who this reception is for again?" Sheridan whispered.

Susan looked at him with exasperation. "You know very well…two new ambassadors have arrived from Gaim and Brakir. Their counterparts are going home for debriefing and a short vacation, and will return in a few months. We are honoring both their departure and their replacements' arrival. It's all part of the job, Captain. You must have known that when you accepted the position." She paused to smile and greet the Drazi ambassador's aide.

"Like I had a choice," Sheridan shot her a glance, his expression mutinous. Looking past her shoulder, he said suddenly, "Excuse me a minute, Commander." His voice had lightened along with his mood. He strode off into the crowd.

Bemused, Susan watched him politely but firmly make his way across the room to where Delenn and Lennier stood chatting with several of the League members. She shook her head, and made her way over to the orchestra. The reception was being held in the ballroom at the Fresh Aire restaurant, and she'd arranged for music, and a demonstration of Earth style dancing. She sincerely hoped it didn't cause a diplomatic incident. Sometimes customs didn't traverse the differences between species very well. They'd done something similar when Jeff Sinclair was still in charge, and Londo had nearly caused a riot when he got drunk and tried to show everyone the Centauri version of the tango. The resultant disaster involved more than the usual four extremities, the Abbai ambassador, and a fruit basket. She chatted with the orchestra leader, and noting that the food had been cleared away, gave the instruction for him to start the music.

The dancers the restaurant had hired came to the center of the small dance floor, which ended at the glass wall that separated the restaurant from the garden. People were still talking quietly, and finishing their food, but they were watching the couples move about the floor. It was going well. The group of dancers had two spokesmen who would describe the dance, then perform it, slowly at first so everyone could follow the steps, then in the proper time. She found herself swaying slightly to the music. She hadn't danced in years, unless you counted that exhibition with the Lumati ambassador.

When the demonstration was over, the lead dancers invited the assemblage to come and try the various styles. Some came forward, and soon there was jostling and swaying and a great deal of laughter. She could see the Captain and Delenn on the far side of the room, watching. They were standing very close together. Susan frowned; they were being a little obvious. There was still a problem with xenophobes and nativists of all kinds, Nightwatch types included. Then, to her consternation, she saw the Captain lead a seemingly reluctant Delenn onto the dance floor. He stopped by the orchestra leader, said something, and then the band started a slow waltz.

"I do not know how to dance, John. This is not going to be amusing for you, watching me trip and stumble." Delenn was smiling, but there was some anxiety in her eyes.

John smiled down at her. "No one as graceful as you are could not be a good dancer. You just need some practice. Besides, this one is easy, you just have to do what I do."

"Only backwards? And in these shoes?" She looked down at her high heeled boots, then over at his dress shoes. "It seems a bit unfair."

"Life is unfair. But there are compensations." _For instance, holding you just became part of my official duties._ He put one hand around her waist, and took her hand with the other. "Put your hand on my shoulder."

"Like this?"

"That's right. Now, follow my lead, and listen to the beat of the music. Slowly at first; we can speed it up once you're comfortable with it."

They moved slowly through the steps and turns, and she quickly learned the movements, and was then able to concentrate on the music, and the feel of moving in concert with the tall man guiding her steps. It was like a ritual; the actions were automatic, and it freed the mind to focus on what was important. What seemed most important at the moment was the way the two of them moved as one, but retained their separate roles within the confines of the dance. She was startled out of her warm glow and pleasant reverie by his words.

"This was considered a scandalous dance in its day, you know."

She looked up at him, amused by his mock solemnity. "Then why are you teaching it to me? Do you desire a scandal?" Then, she added, more seriously, "Is it improper among your people to dance like this?"

"Not since the 18th century!" He twirled her around. "You see, formal dances before this one involved no actual contact between the man and the woman."

"No?" She said thoughtfully. "That sounds more proper, but it does not sound so appealing as this."

"No, it does not. This, by the way…" He twirled her again, then pulled her in close, while continuing to follow the music. "This is called the closed position."

"Closed?" She suddenly found it difficult to breathe. They had not been moving that swiftly that she should be out of breath. "The opposite of open? Or perhaps you mean close, as in distance?" She looked up, into his eyes, which were fixed on hers. "You are certainly not far away," she commented softly.

"Getting closer." He swung her away again before pulling her back to him, then whispered in her ear, "Not nearly close enough."


	2. Incentive Program

**Incentive Program**

_Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words._

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"Yes, we must attend," Delenn spoke severely to her grumbling fiancee. "You are the 'hero of the hour' as someone in your news media informed me as I arrived. This is a formal reception, and whether you are hero or villain, you represent the Alliance to your people."

"I'm more likely to be stoned than applauded, you know." John Sheridan pulled on the jacket of his new suit. He'd had to go shopping for formal civilian clothing; it wouldn't do to wear his Army of Light uniform to an EarthGov function. "There are plenty of people right here in EarthDome who'd like nothing better than to give me a piece of their mind."

Delenn looked at him abstractly, as if picturing the transaction, then shook her head. "It does not matter what they think, or even what they say. Everyone will be watching your actions, listening to your words, judging you on your reactions." She paused to look him over critically, then smiled. "You look very nice."

He smiled back, and said, "So do you." Taking her into his arms, he went on, "When do we get to leave here? As I recall, we have a pressing social engagement aboard the White Star."

"This is the last of the events we must attend. Anything else that needs our attention we can handle once we return to the station." She rested her head against his shoulder briefly. "I, too, want to begin our new life. After tonight's affair, we can return to the ship, and then…"

"Then we begin."

"Yes."

She looked up at him, eyes shining so brightly he thought he might be blinded by her light. That must the reason his eyes were tearing up. "Yes, well," he said, clearing his throat. "President Lushenko said there would be dancing after the reception."

Looking at him skeptically, she pulled back from his arms and went to fetch her formal outer robe, which lay carefully outstretched on the tilted bed in her room. "Did you arrange that, by any chance?"

"I might have mentioned the idea to someone at some point. As in 'if you want me to dress up and play nice, you might give me some incentive.'"

"What incentive would that be?" she asked as she straightened the heavily embroidered satin robe over the thin silk sheath she wore underneath. This robe was more of a tunic, with front and back panels connected by thin bands of material at the sides.

Watching her get dressed with appreciation, he leaned against the doorway to the bedroom and reminisced, "The first time we danced, I remember thinking how great it was that my job actually required me to hold a beautiful woman in my arms and dance with her. Now that's an incentive…much better than paperwork!"

"I agree. About the paperwork." She came towards him, her robes swishing around her ankles. "Perhaps you could ask them to play a waltz? That was the dance you taught me, was it not?"

"As if you didn't remember!" He laughed at the innocent look she gave him. "Perhaps I can. If they know any; it's an old-fashioned type of dance." Reaching towards her, he caught her arm and pulled her in close. His hands explored the thin fabric that lay between the stiff embroidered panels of her outer dress. He remarked, "Later, when we get back to the ship, after the ceremony, we'll finally be alone. Then I'll teach you another waltz."

"Oh?" She put her arms around his neck, and let her fingers dance through his hair, pausing to caress the back of his neck, then move forward to lightly outline his bearded chin. "What kind of music will be required for this activity?"

"We'll make our own music. All we need is each other, and a bed. A horizontal bed," he added sternly.

"John!" she said, her tone slightly reprimanding him.

He cocked one eyebrow at her questioningly, not ceasing his explorations, loving the response as she moved her body under his hands, directing his touch to responsive areas.

She smiled demurely, and went on, "It is all arranged." Gasping slightly as he began to kiss her neck, she went on, "It was an excellent test of Turan's ability to keep his composure. He did not even blink when I made the request." She paused to kiss him lightly, just brushing his lips, then added, "I must remember to compliment his instructors." Her words ended in a sigh as his kisses in return roamed down her throat to the small gap in the high necked collar of her robe. "John, we have to go. We will be late."

"They can't start without us." His low voice rumbled against her skin.

She pushed back, laughing, "We must go now, or we will not make it back to the ship tonight, and we will miss our own wedding!"

"All right." He let go of her reluctantly, then pulled down on his jacket, straightening it out, and smoothed back his hair where she'd disarranged it. "As long as you understand; I get the first dance with you."

Taking his hand as they headed for the door, she answered, "The first, the last, and all the dances in between."

* * *

**Could I Have This Dance?**

_Anne Murray_

I'll always remember the song they were playing  
The first time we danced and I knew;  
As we swayed to the music and held to each other  
I fell in love with you.  
Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?  
Would you be my partner every night?  
When were together it feels so right;  
Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?  
I'll always remember that magic moment  
When I held you close to me.  
As we moved together, I knew forever,  
You're all I will ever need


	3. The Last Dance

**The Last Dance**

_Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words._

* * *

Standing in a dark garden, an elderly woman looked into a brightly lit room. She was clad in a simple white robe, a hood covering her grey and thinning hair. Music spilled out into the warm night, and she watched as the couples moved in precise steps and turns. Minbari did not dance, but the Alliance had many members who did, and occasionally a formal reception ended with the practice of the art.

Stars filled the night sky, performing their own celestial dance, imperceptibly turning, circling an undefined center. Many beings of many races had tried to locate that focal point, the heart of the galaxy, but none had yet succeeded. The stars looked so close this time of year, like candle flames shining against the dark fabric of space.

_You are the brightest star in my sky_, he had told her when he had left her. The stars may seem close enough to touch, but they remain out of reach, isolate and burning, consuming themselves until they fail and fade.

Earlier in her life, she had danced. Even after he had gone, she would go to the parties, the diplomatic functions, and participate in the ritual. Never would she accept a partner for the final dance of the evening. Unfailingly polite, she declined so graciously that no one was ever offended. They were only curious when they saw her smile, full of secrets and hidden pain. She knew the map of her sky, and the location of her heart. She would keep faith...and always, always, save the last dance.

* * *

"All stars stand close in summer air  
And tremble, and look mild as amber;  
When wicks are lighted in the chamber  
You might say stars were settling there."

_Leonie Adams_


End file.
